Dirty Little Secret
by milapa
Summary: Virgil and Richie are now college students. Richie discovers that Virgil has been keeping an upsetting secret from him and must deal with the damage it has caused. Rated M for violence, drug abuse, and language. This is not Slash


A/N: This is a fanfiction I wrote about a year ago when I was taking three classes with possibly the most pessimistic psychology professor of all time. I normally like to write from Virgil's perspective and I wanted to do a fanfiction from Richie's perspective. I also usually like to read/write fanfictions where it's Richie who is struggling with issues and thought it would be a nice change to give Virgil a struggle to deal with. This isn't intended to be slash, but if you choose to view it that way than you can. I don't have a problem with slash, but it seemed to be too light to fit in with such a serious subject.

Warning: This fanfiction contains drug abuse, adult language, violence, gun violence, and allusions to gangs.

Disclaimer: As much as I love these characters and I love playing with them, I don't own them. Also, the title is (and inspiration) comes from the All American Rejects song Dirty Little Secret. It's an awesome song which I also do not own.

It had been a few days since Richie had seen Virgil. This wasn't entirely out of the normal since they weren't in the same dorm and they didn't share classes (Richie being a computer science major and Virgil psychology) but he also hadn't heard from the other boy in a few days and that was unusual.

Even if they wouldn't see each other, Virgil would usually send him a text, and if not he would at least reply when Richie sent him one. It's not that Richie was worrying, but he was getting a little concerned. Virgil lived in an apartment by himself, a small one room deal where the kitchen bedroom and living room were all the same, so this meant that if anything happened to him, no one would really know.

Richie didn't go to Virgil's apartment very often because of it's size and it was also scarcely furnished with little food and even less entertainment so Virgil would usually come to his dorm room. Sure he shared a kitchen and living room with another guy, but it was large and they had a television with multiple (modified) game systems. Both Richie and his roommate were computer science majors.

Richie had send Virgil five texts in the past three days. Virgil had replied to one, and that was just "hey" and that was three days ago. They often went a week sometimes two without seeing each other, but no more than a day talking to each other unless they knew the other was going to be busy with projects.

It was the beginning of the semester though, and Virgil had no big projects that were supposed to be coming up. So Richie was walking to Virgil's apartment.

That was another reason he seldom went. He had no car and the apartment was a two hour walk away. Pieces of his bike had been stolen shortly after he got to college, and he couldn't afford to replace the parts.

It was early in the spring semester and therefore was nippy outside, to the point that Richie's nose and ears started itching after he had walked for about ten minutes. The scarf he was wearing did help some, but the wind was biting and he hadn't thought to wear earmuffs or ear plugs so the wind was roaring in his ears and making them ache.

He had texted Virgil to tell him he was coming over, so every few minutes he would check his phone for a reply, but there was none.

Two hours of walking and Richie arrived at the worn down red and rusty apartment. He climbed the stairs, they almost seemed like they would break, but the cement was stable, up to the third floor and knocked on door #304. He could see that the lights were out inside, but he waited anyway. When there was no reply, he tried to see if the door was open. Virgil wouldn't mind if he just walked in if he was in the shower or something.

The door was unlocked. Richie walked inside and saw in the dim light a small rectangular coffee table with various items on it in the middle of the room, a radio set on a wooden kitchen chair, and a pile of blankets in the corner.

"Hey, V. You home?" Richie called.

What he had thought was a pile of blankets began to shake a little as a moan came from it. Richie walked over to it. "Virg, is that you?" he said grabbing the blanket and picking it up. The blanket was held down, but he got a glimpse of his brown friend underneath.

"Virgil, what's going on?" Richie exclaimed. "Are you sick?"

He knelt down by the pile; it shuddered. Richie grabbed the blanket from the bottom and pulled it up to get another glimpse of his friend. Virgil's eyes had dark bags under them and looked hollow. His skin was extremely ashy and he looked sickly. This was all Richie could see before the blanket was pulled back down.

Richie looked around. He noticed what was sitting on the table. There was a playboy magazine, an old one from the looks of it dog eared pages. There was a hand mirror, a bottle of gel, a razor blade, some tissues, and a few beer bottles.

"What have you been doing?" Richie asked wide eyed turning back to where Virgil was.

"Just leave me alone." The other man groaned out hoarsely.

"No, V. Richie said adamant. "What's wrong with you? What happened? I need to know."

Virgil didn't reply but shuffled further into the corner. Richie walked over to the table and looked at the mirror more closely. There were remnants of fine white powder on it.

"Virgil!" Richie exclaimed turning around quickly, ripping the blanket away from his friend, and tossing it to the side. Virgil groaned loudly. Richie came up to him and grabbed he wrist forcing him to face outward. "What the hell, man?! Is this what I think it is?"

Virgil responded, "leave me alone," and tried to turn back to the wall, but Richie had him in an iron grip. Desperate, Richie did the only thing he could think to do.

"Virgil, either you talk to me, or I'm calling the cops."

Virgil gave a panicked look for a moment, but it quickly faded. "Crystal meth." He said quietly not looking the blond in the eyes.

"Virgil." Richie said face filled with sadness. "How long?"

Virgil dared a quick glance at Richie. "Two months." He muttered.

Richie felt like the worst best friend on the face of the planet. His Virgil had been on crack for two months and he hadn't even noticed anything was wrong.

"Why?" Richie asked with sympathy.

"The weed and alcohol weren't enough anymore."

"Weed?" Richie asked shocked.

Virgil nodded.

"Since when?"

"Remember that time we tried it, when we first came here?" Richie swallowed hard. "I didn't stop."

So it was his fault. When they had first gone off to college a friend from high school had offered him marijuana. He thought he was mature enough not to be effected, so he took it. He convinced Virgil to do it with him (it took some time,) what was the worst that could happen? This. The worst that could happened did happen and it was all his fault.

"Virgil, I'm sorry." Richie mumbled dazed. He sat down on the floor next to his best friend letting go of Virgil's wrist. He had to think. He had to figure out what to do.

Virgil closed his eyes and curled back up in the corner. Richie turned towards him. "How long since you used it last?"

"Two days." Virgil replied almost incomprehensibly.

"Where's your bed?"

"Sold it."

"And your refrigerator?"

"It too."

"How long has it been since you ate?"

"I dunno." Virgil mumbled. "A few days."

"A few days?!" Richie said shocked. "I'm going to get you something. I'll be back."

Richie reluctantly left his friend, but he couldn't let Virgil starve. There was a fast food place only about fifteen minutes (walking) away so he wouldn't be that long, but he was afraid of what would happen to Virgil if he was given too long.

How many times had Virgil come over flying high and he not noticed? That couldn't have been something easy to miss especially since it was the person he knew better than anyone else. Maybe he was in denial, but how could he miss the hollow look in Virgil's eyes, or the fact that he had lost nearly thirty pounds and was looking on the border of malnourished. He was malnourished.

He had to get Virgil some help. He obviously couldn't let him continue living like this. He just didn't know who he could turn to. He thought about calling Mr. Hawkins, he dealt with situations like this all the time, but he was afraid Virgil would hate him for it. Richie didn't know anything about helping someone on drugs though. Virgil had told him that one of his professors was a drug therapist, but he couldn't remember her name.

He wondered if Virgil had been going to class at all this semester. They were only two weeks in, but missing every day for two weeks was more than enough to be put out of the class. He hoped Virgil hadn't sold his car yet. He should have asked about it, but he wasn't exactly thinking straight at the moment.

Not only was Virgil doing drugs, but he had also apparently been drinking pretty heavily. There weren't too many bottles on that small table, but Richie wondered what had been in them since Virgil appeared to be hung over. He smelt hung over. They did drink occasionally, so that wasn't too strange. Richie had had his share of hang overs but it was usually from a social event. He never actually drank alone. He didn't really see a point to it.

Richie quickly ordered several burgers and several boxes of fries. It wasn't exactly the healthiest of meals, but it would do for now. At the moment all that mattered was getting food into the malnourished young man.

Even being mostly out of shape, not much exercising had been going on sine he had started college, he jogged most the way back to Virgil's apartment, turning a fifteen minute trip into an eight and a half minute trip.

When he got back, he found that the door was locked shut.

"Virgil, open up!" Richie called knocking on the door with the palm of his left hand, holding onto the bag of food with his right.

There was no answer.

_He can't have left_. Richie thought. He kicked the door to make a louder noise, holding the warm food close to his chest. "Virgil, open up. I know you're in there!" Richie watched as the only sign of movement was his frozen breath that lingered in the air.

He sighed and slowly lowered his head. Tears formed in the brim of his eyes, but he wasn't willing to let himself cry just yet. There was still hope he could save his friend.

He slumped down with his back pressing against the ugly, red door and huddled around the bag of food for warmth. "Virgil, I'm not leaving until you let me in!" He called, then after a moment added, "and it's fucking freezing out here!"

When he still didn't hear any sound, he sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on his arms that were laying on top of the while paper bag.

"Dammit, V." The blond man whispered under his breath.

…...

Richie didn't know how long he had sat outside Virgil's apartment, but at some point while he had dozed off the sun had managed to climb down to the edge of the Earth and the temperature was dropping rapidly.

Richie slowly cracked open his eyes that were nearly frozen shut from the almost tears that had been there. The food was no longer warm, instead, it was frozen. All the moisture that had been in it turned to ice.

He slowly stretched out his stiff limbs and moved each joint individually before attempting to push himself up using the door for support. He knocked on the door one more time. "Virgil, please let me in. I just want to give you something to eat." After a minute of nothing, Richie turned to leave, but was met by two thuggish looking guys dressed rather inappropriately for the cold weather.

They wore unzipped, yellow jackets with basketball style shirts underneath and shorts that hung down passed their knees almost completely exposing their underwear, one with Taz the Tasmanian devil and the other with bright green dollar signs.

"You friends wit this guy?" one of the thugs asked motioning towards Virgil's door.

"Uh-um." Richie stuttered unsure of what was going on.

"I said, you friends wit this guy?" The thug asked again pulling out a gun and motioning towards the door.

"Hold up man. There's no need for that." Richie said holding up both his hands and dropping the white paper bag.

"I think he is." The second, slightly smaller thug said. "Let's jus get the mony from 'im."

The second thug walked up to Richie and punched him in the stomach. "Give us the mony!" he shouted.

Richie doubled over in pain, coughing a bit. He held up one hand, holding the other over his stomach. "H-how much?" he laboriously pushed out.

"5 hun." The first thug said tilting his head back. Richie slowly stood up and pulled out his wallet.

"I've got…I've got three hundred." He huffed handing the cash to the larger thug.

"Shit man! That ain't enou. C'mon Crello, let's take it outta his blood."

Richie went wide eyed and tried to back away as the smaller thug once again approached him, but there wasn't much room between the balcony railing and the building and the thugs were blocking the stairs. The thug threw a punch that landed hard against the blonds left cheek and pushed his neck to the side. If he hadn't had enough sense to go with the punch it probably would have broken his neck.

Richie's hand immediately flew to his face. There was blood and no doubt a bruise forming. Just when the first thug was about to take his shot, the door burst open.

"Leave him alone." An authoritative voice sounded. Richie hadn't heard that voice in years, Static died three years ago.

"Yeah, and what ch'you gonna do 'bout it?" The larger thug asked turning towards the door.

"I'll get you your money, so just leave him alone." Virgil was standing in the doorway silhouetted, arms by his side, shoulders slumped, but back arched, ready to attack.

"Let's get him." The larger thug said motioning towards the shadowy form in the door with his chin. Both men moved towards the college student and there was a flash of purple light. The two thugs screamed and scattered away. "We'll come back for you, and you better have our mony!" One of the thugs shouted as they left.

Virgil made to shut the door again, but was quickly foiled by Richie's foot.

"Leave me alone, or I'll zap you too." Virgil said menacingly.

"I'm not leaving." Richie said with just as much anger and more conviction.

Virgil gave in and sighed walking away from the door. Richie picked up the bag of frozen food and walked inside the apartment.

"Virgil." Richie began cleaning off the table, which mostly consisted of tossing everything into the trash can that he fully intended to take with him when he left, if he could bring himself to leave. "I brought you some burgers. They're cold now…frozen actually." He looked around, "and I guess you'll have to eat them that way since you don't seem to have your microwave anymore."

"I'm not hungry." Virgil said in a dismissive manner, back under his blanket in the corner.

"I don't care if you're hungry." Richie said taking the table and food over to Virgil. "You need to eat."

"I'm fine." Virgil said obviously annoyed.

Richie moved beside Virgil, partially because he was still extremely cold, but mostly so he could try and coax his friend to eat. He held up one of the boxes of fries to Virgil's face. "Just eat a few." Virgil made no sign that he was going to obey.

"Please." Richie pleaded.

Virgil sighed and slowly took on of the fries. He stared at it for a moment contemplating eating it. Eventually he decided it would be worth it and put the greasy potato in his mouth. He chewed for a long time and swallowed. Richie watched his every movement carefully as if at any moment he would magically pull some cocaine out of nowhere.

Richie knew it would be a lot to expect Virgil to eat the meal in full when he was in this condition, but he felt like he should push it before the other male got the idea that he would be okay with him not eating.

"How did it get this bad?" Richie asked as soon as it became clear that Virgil was going to continue eating.

Virgil let out a defeated sigh. "Rich. You know I couldn't handle it. I was a superhero. I was helping people. I was saving people, the we left Dakota and superheroes were ostracized. Having to give it up hurt, so I thought if I studied psychology I could help people, but it's all a lie. People can't be helped…and neither can I." Virgil sounded more pessimistic than Richie had ever heard him before.

"Don't say that." Richie said his face contorted into a worried expression. "You know that's not true. Your mom helped people. Your Pops helps people. Your sister helps people."

"Yeah, and for what?" Virgil spat. "My mom died, my dad's always stressed, and Sharon's a bitch." Richie was shocked. He'd never heard Virgil talk about his family that way. "I can't do it any more, Rich. I haven't been able to for awhile. This world…" He paused clearly thinking of everything he thought was wrong in the world, "it just, it can't be helped."

Richie was at a loss for words. He didn't know what Virgil was learning in his psychology classes, but whatever it was had persuaded him that everything was hopeless. After a long, painful pause Richie responded, "Even if the world is hopeless, even if there is nothing you or we can do, taking drugs, destroying yourself won't make it better."

"It won't make it worse." Virgil said shrugging.

Richie was confused. He didn't understand how Virgil couldn't see how bad this was. "It's worse for the people that love you and care about you." There was more silence. "Virgil, you can be happy again. We just need to get you some help. I'll be with you no matter what."

"I never asked you to be." Virgil bit grabbing one of the burgers harshly.

"I don't care." Richie responded. "I'm going to be here for you because I want to be, and I'm going to get you help, no matter what."

Virgil slowly unwrapped the burger and held it down suddenly losing desire to eat any more.

"Have you been going to class?" Richie asked taking one of the burgers himself.

Virgil shook his head looking down. "I-" He hesitated for a moment. "I spent my tuition on drugs." He murmured.

Richie knitted his eyebrows together. "What about the classes you told me you were taking."

"Those were the classes I should have been taking."

Richie shook his head. "You should go home. Ask your pops for help."

"I can't." Virgil mumbled. "He'll hate me."

Richie looked at Virgil in surprise. "He could never hate you. He would just want the best for you. He would do whatever it takes to help you."

There was silence in which Virgil stared at the burger in his hand and Richie stared down at his hands. It was too difficult for him to look at the depleted vestige of his friend.

"Just let me call you dad." Richie said quietly after a few minutes. Virgil didn't respond but continued to stare down. "Will you be mad at me if I call him?" Richie asked glancing at his friend.

Virgil was silent, but barely shook his head from side to side. Even in the low light, Richie could see that a few tears had escaped the brown, young man's eyes.

"Than I'm going to do it now." As Riche said this, Virgil's grip on the burger tightened. "He can help you." Richie added noticing this. He pulled out his pone and slowly dialed the familiar number. He had no idea what he was going to say, or what he could say. There couldn't be an easy way to tell a man his son, his pride and joy who had saved so many lives, was destroying his own.

The phone rang; almost a deafening sound in the terrible silence.

"Hello?" There was a deep, calm voice coming from the other end of the line.

"H-hey, Mr. H. This is Richie." He paused. He didn't want to say what he had to.

"Richie, it's one o'clock in the morning. Is everything alright?" Mr. Hawkins asked, the concern obvious in his voice.

"N-no, Mr. H. It isn't." Richie's voice cracked. "There's," he let out a huff of air, "there's something wrong with Virgil. You need to get out here." Richie finished trying to hold back tears. This was too real now. Even he didn't want to mention what the real problem was.

"What's wrong with him? Is he okay?" Mr. Hawkins asked clearly unnerved.

"He's no okay. Just get out here quickly please." Richie pleaded not wanting to explain more.

"Okay. I'll be there as quickly as possible." He hung up the phone immediately and Richie knew he was already in his car.

The hamburger Virgil had been holding was ripped in half now; crumbs covered the blanket.

"So I guess this is it." Virgil said lowering his head to his knees that he had brought up to his chest, "I'm not going to see you again for a long time. I'm not going to be able to do anything."

"No, Virgil. You won't be able to do too many things for awhile, but I'll always be with you. I'm not going to leave you to deal with this by yourself." 

Virgil shook his head. "You can't. You have college. Your own life."

"I don't are. I'll drop out. College can wait." This can't, and this is my fault."

Virgil shook his head again, but made no more protest.

"I'm going to go pack your stuff." Richie said standing up and placing his hand on Virgil's shoulder.

A/N: I plan on letting this stand alone as it is and leaving the ending more or less open because I did write more and I think it ends better this way. That being said, I may eventually decide to post the rest as well. So, as always, if you liked it, please review. Thank you for reading.


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